


Great Expectations

by alkjira



Series: What To Expect [4]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Durins Died At BoFA, Alternate Universe - No One Ring, Cracky fluff, Gen, Higher Amounts of Sanity Than In The Last Story, M/M, Magic Fertility Hobbit, Or So The Author Thinks, Post Mpreg, Slice of Life For A Hobbit Married To A Dwarven King
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-16
Updated: 2014-06-16
Packaged: 2018-02-04 22:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1795636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alkjira/pseuds/alkjira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Bilba?" Thorin suggested and Bilbo wrinkled his nose.</p><p>"No, I think not."</p><p>“Biloba?” </p><p>“Slightly better but no.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Great Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Now parents to four children the tale of Bilbo and Thorin goes ever on.

It was official. Officially official.  
  
Dwarfs were crazy. And what that said about him for throwing his lot in with them Bilbo didn't know.

 _“What_  are they calling me?!"

Thorin looked a bit perplexed at Bilbo's reaction, or rather the magnitude of it, and he gently patted his consort's hand where it was clenched into the collar of his tunic. 

"You know that they're very... enthusiastic about our three new children, dear one. They do not mean any harm. And I’ve told them that there should be no more statues.”

"Don't mean any-" Bilbo shook his head. "Thorin you've just told me that they call me the  _Fertiliser_!!" Small hands flailed wildly. " _Fertiliser_. As in cow dung!"

"As in what?"  
  
Bilbo was not going to explain the concept of cow dung to his husband. There were limits.  
  
"Cow. Dung," he repeated instead.  
  
“No, no,” Thorin protested. “As in someone who will make others more fertile.”  
  
“It’s still horrible,” Bilbo grumped, but it was hard to stay upset when Thorin leaned down and kissed him.  
  
“My amazing husband,” Thorin murmured. “My remarkable, wonderful-“  
  
Inside their bedchamber, three babes started to cry, and both Thorin and Bilbo stilled.  
  
“I told you three were a bit much in one go,” Bilbo sighed and removed his hands from Thorin’s backside. HIs hands liked it there, so what. “Unlike what those statues would imply – or explicitly show for that matter – I can only feed two at the time.”  
  
“Perhaps one of them only need to get changed,” Thorin said hopefully, and Bilbo took a moment to reflect on how Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, he whose biggest wish had been to slay a Dragon and reclaim Erebor now wished for one of their children to have soiled him or herself.  
  
Bilbo rather preferred this. Also, even a soiled nappy was a lot less smelly than Smaug had been. And not nearly as dangerous. Unless you asked Ori who avoided them like the plague.  
  
-  
  
“Ye can’t really blame ‘em,” Bofur said and ran his fingers over Della’s sides as if she was his flute. Giggling she retaliated by grabbing Bofur’s left moustache and pulling. Hard.  
  
“You’re going to grow up to be such a strong girl aren’t you,” Bofur said approvingly. “Yes you are!”  
  
“Elves!” Della agreed. She learnt more and more words with every passing week but she still had her favourites. Much to Bilbo's amusement and Thorin's lack thereof.  
  
“What do you mean I can’t blame them?” Bilbo asked and rocked his youngest, his only boy, in his arms for the thousandth time, or so his arms would have him believe.  
  
His son would take after Thorin it seemed, complaining whenever Bilbo didn’t give him enough attention. His two baby girls were sleeping peacefully, but this one had started complaining the moment Bilbo had put him in the crib.  
  
“He means you can’t blame them,” Nori said from inside the closet.  
  
“Is the hamsters pups there with you?” Bilbo asked. “I’ve not seen them all day.”  
  
“I think they’re with the boys actually,” Nori replied. “But Bill’s here.”  
  
The cat meowed softly and Della perked up. “Catty?”  
  
“Try and go with kitty, sweetling,” Bilbo said to his daughter. “Nori be a dear and let Bill out will you? And Bofur, explain what you were talking about.”  
  
As Bill slunk out of the closet Della released Bofur’s moustache and squirmed to be let down on the floor. Bofur did so with a small sigh of regret, but he brightened when Bilbo held his youngest out for him to take. It took two seconds of Bofur holding him and then the boy began to whimper unhappily.  
  
“Was worth a go,” Bilbo said and plucked him back into his arms. “But I’ll have you know I won’t spend the next –“ he frowned. “Bofur, how long is it before you’re considered an adult in the Dwarven society?”  
  
“It depends,” Bofur replied. “Usually it’s somewhere around your 40th year. But if you’re Fíli and Kíli best double that and hope for the best.”  
  
“I won’t spend the next 30 to 40 years holding you,” Bilbo told his son, who was once more sleeping peacefully and looking particularly innocent.  
  
Della was looking anything but innocent, her eyes sparkling as she whispered something to Bill. The cat appeared to be listening intently and even merped in agreement every so often. Bilbo wasn't too worried, he trusted the cat to be sensible about whatever plot Della was spinning.

“Though I have to say it’s a lot calmer to be a parent before the children start running around on their own,” Bilbo sighed. “Bofur, your explanation of why I should just suffer through the people of Erebor being ridiculous?”  
  
“Oh, right.” Bofur pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “Well, you’re a Hobbit and Thorin is a Dwarf, so naturally they’re going to be comparing you to Mahal and the Lady Yavanna.”  
  
Bilbo gave him a blank stare. “Thorin is a pretty good smith when he has the time, but I’m hardly a tall lady robed in green. Not many Hobbits are for that matter. And by not many I mean _none_.”  
  
“Come now,” Bofur protested. “It’s romantic. Mahal created us, and Lady Yavanna created you, and-“  
  
“Yavanna didn’t create us,” Bilbo protested. “Eru did. If anything Yavanna took part of the creation of the _Ents_. Do I look like a tree?”  
  
“The Green Lady didn’t create Hobbits?” Bofur blinked. “Nori did you know this? Nori.”  
  
There was no reply and when Bofur got up to open the closet it was empty.  
  
“That one always disappears when it suits him,” Bofur muttered. “Still, you’ve given birth to no less than four children in two years. That’s certainly a record. Four children in four decades would also have been a record. And three at once, no wonder people have a small tendency to… idolise you. Especially since others have started to have more children as well since you came around. And I don’t only mean Bill and Thorn.”

“But that’s just the herbs,” Bilbo protested. “Not in regards to the pets, Eru only knows how they managed that, and fine, I asked for the Thain to send he herbs here, but otherwise it’s got nothing to do with me.”  
  
Della giggled and they both turned to look at her. Thorn had shown up, goodness knows from where, and the three of them were playing together on the rug in front of the fireplace.  
  
“I’m not sure why I have private chambers when everyone comes and goes as they please in them,” Bilbo muttered.  
  
“Oh come off it,” Bofur chuckled. “They’re your pets.”  
  
“And Nori?”  
  
“Well, I’m sure he’d like it if you scratched behind his ears.”  
  
“Seriously now, Bofur,” Bilbo sighed. “I don’t want everyone to think I’m something special. I even heard someone call me _magical_ the other day.”  
  
“Bilbo,” Bofur shook his head and looked at Bilbo, his green eyes very earnest. “You’re pretty darn special, there’s not use in denying that. Regardless of if they think you’re a magical fertilising-”

“Please, can we just avoid that word?”  
  
-

“All I’m saying is that it’s a stupid word,” Dwalin grunted. “ _Triplets_. Got nothing to do with tripping. Unless that's the start of how they were created.” He smirked. "Did Thorin trip and fall-"  
  
“And a doublet is a _jacket_ ,” Dori interrupted and gave Dwalin a pointed glare. “I agree, it doesn’t really make sense.”  
  
“ _I_ didn’t make it up,” Bilbo protested and leaned back against Thorin’s side. “Take it up with whoever did.”  
  
“They’re not here,” Kíli informed him. “And it’s you who wants us to use it.”  
  
“Then don’t use it,” Bilbo sighed. “I don’t particularly care. Just don’t call them three-twins. It sounds ridiculous.”  
  
“Like triplets,” said Dwalin.  
  
“I know it was my idea that we should all have dinner together,” Bilbo murmured to Thorin. “But what was I thinking?”

“You said that you hadn’t left our quarters for days and-“  
  
“Thank you, darling,” Bilbo sighed. Rhetoric questions was not really something most Dwarfs had mastered it would seem. They were quite literal. Which might also be the basis of this current problem.  
  
“If twins are twice,” Ori mused. “Then three and thrice should be called thrins.”  
  
“I like it,” Dwalin nodded.

“Have you figured out what to actually call them yet?” Kíli asked. "Names I mean."  
  
Bofur opened his mouth.  
  
“ _Dungeons_ ,” Bilbo said pointedly to him and he closed it with admirable speed.  
  
“That’s not a very good name,” Fíli said.  
  
-  
  
"Bilba?" Thorin suggested and Bilbo wrinkled his nose.  
  
"No, I think not."

“Biloba?”  
  
“Slightly better but no.”

“Perhaps it can be your turn to suggest a few names.”  
  
Thorin didn’t sound upset though, which could have something to do with the six of them all being curled up in bed together, their as of yet unnamed children in the middle, all asleep, and then Della snoozing next to them, curled up against Thorin’s side. It was hard for Thorin to be upset when he had all his children within arms’ reach, which was something Bilbo was going to take ample advantage of the next time Thranduil stopped by.  
  
“Would you-“ Bilbo hesitated. “I don’t want to cause offence.”  
  
“You wish to give them Elven names,” Thorin said warily.  
  
“What, no,” Bilbo protested, and Thorin’s shoulders relaxed. “Della is named after my mother and your sister, but you- you had a brother as well.”  
  
“Frerin,” Thorin said quietly and Bilbo refrained from pointing out that he already knew that.  
  
“Yes. If you want to, we could name one of the babes after him. Unless you think-“  
  
“I would like that.” Thorin brushed the tips of his fingers over Bilbo’s cheek. “Thank you.”  
  
“Yes, well-“ Bilbo put his hand over Thorin’s. “So maybe Fennin? For one of the girls?”

“Fennin,” Thorin repeated. “Fennin. Yes I like it. And I think it would suit this one.” He moved his hand to hover over the smallest of their three babes. “She reminds me of Frerin when he was no bigger than this. Quiet and not very demanding.” Thorin smiled a little sadly. “Frerin was such an easy child compared to me and Dís, or so mother was fond of telling us. But I do seem to remember Dís screaming a lot more than him."  
  
“Fennin it is then,” Bilbo agreed and smoothed his hand over Thorin’s forearm. “So that’s one down, two to go.”  
  
“Your skills at arithmetic is a constant source of amazement.” The corner of Thorin’s mouth quirked upwards in a more genuine smile. “One of many.”  
  
“Very funny,” Bilbo huffed, but he couldn’t help but to return the smile. “For the other two I was thinking that maybe one could have a Dwarven name and one a Hobbit one?”  
  
“Don’t you want to name one after your father?”  
  
“We can’t really use up all the relatives on the first two lots,” Bilbo said and shrugged one shoulder slightly. “And I thought that maybe it would be good to make a point of their heritage.”  
  
As always when talking about the possibility of more children Thorin got a slightly glazed and very pleased look in his eyes.  
  
“I hope you understand that you will make me the most envied Dwarf in all our history,” Thorin said, his voice low and intimate and the decidedly foolish part of Bilbo’s mind wanted to describe it as velvet over thunder or some other romantic twaddle like that. Also, he was definitely going to remind Thorin about the well-known ‘fact’ that Hobbits grew best if they were sung to. Oh yes he was.  
  
“Surely there are others who have had a fair number of children,” Bilbo said.  
  
“But they were not helped by their love to conquer a Dragon and reclaim their long lost home. They were not aided by their love as they escaped Elven dungeons and then again when the time came to vanquish an army of Orcs.”  
  
“All I did was to throw a stone at his head,” Bilbo murmured. “Azog cannot exactly be called an army.”  
  
“And-“ Thorin continued, unperturbed. “They were not a parent four times over in two years.” He paused. “At least not with the same other parent for the children. There are rumours about some of my ancestors and how they enjoyed broadening the line of Durin.”

A rather sly smile spread itself over Thorin’s face. “But most important, none of them were married to a magical fertility Hobbit.”  
  
“Maybe I want an Elven name after all,” Bilbo said and was not at all smug when the smile abruptly disappeared from his husband’s stupidly handsome face.  
  
-  
  
“Did you say Durin?” Óin asked, eyes wide as he stared down at the little boy in Thorin’s arms.  
  
“No,” Thorin said loudly. “I said _Burin_.”

“Oh, good,” Óin said and relaxed. “The portents-“  
  
“By which he means the insides of a pig,” Bombur whispered and Bilbo wrinkled his nose.  
  
“-a Durin descending from a Thorin, but I thought it would be Dáin’s son. At any rate, this Durin would be the last of the Deathless’ incarnations, and mark the beginning of the end of the Dwarven kind.”  
  
Óin grinned down at the newly named Burin and only noticed the many horrified stares levelled at him when he looked up again.

“ _Burin_ , our King said, so stop looking at me like that. It’s not something that’s going to happen tomorrow, or the day after that. Not even in this Age if I read the signs correctly. Which was why I was somewhat taken aback when I misheard.”  
  
“ _Why_ would the inside of a pig know this?” Bilbo murmured to Bombur and held Fennin a little closer to his chest. Bombur shrugged.  
  
“Take it with a grain of salt. When we were still with you in the Shire he said that when the ravens would return to Erebor it would mark the end of Smaug, but it was actually a thrush that helped save the day. The ravens were too busy gossiping with each other.”  
  
“Like you are now?” Dís said drily. “I wish to know the name of my last niece.”  
  
“Her name is Clove,” Bilbo said with a small smile to the sleeping girl in Dís’ arms. All of his children had been born with a surprising amount of hair on their heads, or at least it would be a surprise if you didn’t know their parents, but Della and Clove had been the only two with a fair smattering of curls on the tops of their feet as well. Fennin on the other hand had a soft peach fuzz on her chin, something that Fíli had of course been quick to point out to Kíli: “Just wait brother, give her a month and she’ll have you beat.” Something Kíli had of course responded very maturely to and not at all threatened to introduce Fíli’s own chin to a razor.  
  
Except for the hair on his head Burin was a hairless little thing, but Balin had told Bilbo that this was not unusual for a babe with two Dwarven parents either. It happened when it happened if it happened. Thorin had been completely beardless as well when he was born.  
  
Seeing as Bilbo definitely didn’t care how much of a beard his children did or didn’t have, and seeing as their children would be perfect in Thorin’s eyes no matter what, the Hobbit was fairly relaxed about the entire thing. As far as he was concerned a lack of hair around the mouth meant that there would be less of a mess at meal times, and as such, the beard was welcome to stay away at least for the next decade or so.  
  
Della still seemed to think that food was to be worn about as much as it was to be eaten and he had the suspicion that her siblings would be no more civilised.

On the subject of his oldest she was holding court with the hamster pups. If he was honest Bilbo often felt a little unsure who was who of the pups. They did look more or less the same. And if he was entirely honest he sometimes forgot a few of the names. But it would come with time, it’d taken him a while to memorise all the names of the 13 Dwarfs piling into his kitchen as well, and they had been able to remind him when prompted to.  
  
Thorin on the other hand had no issue telling them (the pups) apart nor any problem remembering their names, or so Bilbo assumed since he wouldn’t actually know if he made any mistakes.  
  
Bilbo’s favourite was Amethyst, or Amy for short, but he wouldn’t really admit to her being his favourite simply because she was impossible to mix up with any of the others as she was the only one who was almost entirely white. Bit of a strange colour perhaps considering that her parents were black and orange respectively, but considering that her parents were also hamster and cat respectively… well, colour was hardly the most peculiar thing about her.  
  
Apart from little Amy – in no particular order – there was also Opal, Amber, Ruby, Topaz, Diamond, Garnet, Sapphire, Emerald, Zircon, Peridot, Beryl, and Quartz.  
  
Yes. Bilbo didn’t really think that he was a horrible person for not mastering all of those just yet. Especially since the pups had entered their lives as he’d been rather busy being very, very pregnant. Bill might have had 13 to Bilbo’s three, but none of those had been pumpkin sized thank you very much.  
  
Not that it was a competition, but still. .  
  
“All very lovely names,” Bofur said and nodded. “Even if Fra- mmmph?”  
  
Bifur sighed and made sure that his hand completely covered his cousin’s mouth.  
  
-  
  
“Don’t be alarmed,” Thorin said, and naturally this alarmed Bilbo somewhat.  
  
“What?” he asked. “Our children-?”  
  
“They’re fine,” Thorin promised. “It’s got nothing to do with them.” He hesitated a little. “Or almost nothing to do with them.”  
  
“Thorin-“  
  
Again Thorin hesitated and now Bilbo was definitely alarmed.  
  
“Just tell me.”  
  
“I have been petitioned to allow shrines to be built in honour of you. And our children.” Thorin cupped Bilbo’s cheek. “They mean no offence. And if you are not comfortable with it, which I of course understand if you aren’t- And your comfort is more important than any flights of fancy from-“  
  
“Fine,” Bilbo sighed. “Let them have shrines.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Only make them promise that if they leave flowers they will actually leave them in vases with water.”  
  
“Of course,” Thorin promised and kissed Bilbo’s brow. “Thank you for this. It will please a great many of our people.”  
  
“And no statues.”  
  
“But-“  
  
“No. Statues.”  
  
“No statues.”  
  
“Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> In the next story we should be able to go to the Shire and see what happens if you let a bunch of Dwarfs loose there. (as many of you have requested)
> 
> Oh and the name Fennin is totally burgled (with permission) from diemarysues' series A King And Her Burglar which you can find here  
> http://archiveofourown.org/series/41476


End file.
